Meeting Again
by Maxy Steel
Summary: Just my humble opinion of how Gateau and Marron ran into one another in the next life towards the end of the series. Rating for a bit of cursing, and the stuff in the warnings. *VERY MILD SHOUNEN-AI!*


_Disclaimer: Sorcerer/Bakuretsu Hunters is not mine. I'd like it to be, cause then there'd be a lot more Marron/Gateau stuff. *grinnnn* But alas, I don't own it. Woe be I. Have fun reading!   
  
A.N.- Well, this was a bit out there. I kept watching the last four episodes (notice all my ideas keep coming from around then? That's cause it's the tape in my VCR, and I'm too lazy and immobile with my broken ankle to get over there and change the tape), and I kept thinking about how Marron and Gateau just happened to find one another. I mean, Tira and Chocolate together made sense, cause they're sisters, and they were killed roughly at the same time. But the mage and the warrior? Kicked the bucket at two very different times. So this was just my interpretation of how they ended up together when the girls found 'em. Have fun readin'!   
  
Warnings: Uhh... a little trippy. Possible, very, very light Gaterron. Memory blips, and Gateau being called a gorilla. That's about it._   
  


**MEETING AGAIN   
BY:   
Maxy Steel**

  
_ A tanned face, topped by messy dark hair. Large black eyes that seem to plead with me, begging for what, I don't know. I see his lips move, but the words are lost. I feel the air of urgency surrounding him, making his aura agitated and nervous. Who is that man...? Why is he here, and what does he want from me?_   
My eyes snap open, the rush of air heaving in and out of my lungs roaring in my ears, the rapid thudding of my heart against my ribs a steady accompaniment. Sunlight pours through the open curtains of the window across the room, spilling over my face. In the split second that it takes for me to register all this, I squint, my eyes aching from the sudden light. Slowly, almost cautiously, I push my upper body off the mattress. Once there, I sit quietly for a few minutes, gradually letting my breathing and heart settle back down, the remnants of the dream still fresh in my mind. For the life of me, I can't think of anyone I know who looks like that man I saw. It's bothering me, I want to know who that stranger is. A glance at the clock shows that it's nearly noon. My eyes widen at the realization that I've greatly over slept. Luckily, it's the weekend, but still, with finals so close, just two weeks away, I need to study as much as I can manage before then. In the rush of getting up, throwing on clothes, a turtleneck and slacks, brushing out my hair, grabbing up my books and shuffling them into a bag, then hurrying out of my dorm room to grab a quick snack, the dream is pushed to the back of my mind. It's a nice day. I think I'll study outside.   
Not surprisingly, the park outside my dormitory is already teeming with people. Mostly on the basketball court. I ignore them as I hurry past, heading for the bench beside my favorite cherry tree. The branches of the huge plant stretch out far past it's trunk, hovering over the bench. In spring, when the tree is in full bloom, it's shady, and it's just enough out of the way that I'm not bothered by anyone. Yet close enough that the sounds of the people around me a comforting murmur. Dropping my bag beside me, I settle on the well worn wooden surface, relaxing against the seat, clearing my mind of all distractions before reaching for a text. The image of that strange man flashes against my closed eyelids. Those troubled, haunted, pleading onyx eyes. A shake of my head, as well as opening my own gold-colored eyes, banishes the mysterious presence from my vision, for the moment. Still, as I pick up a book, that awkward feeling of disquiet lingers. I frown at the white, black-marked pages, forcing myself to concentrate on the typed words. It's to no avail. The letters, words, lines blur together, and all I can think is how their dark color is like that of that apparition's begging irises. Surprising myself, I suddenly stand, the book slamming closed between my palms. It gets shoved into the depths of my book bag. A quick tug of the drawstring to close it, and the strap is slung over my shoulder. I walk away from the bench, intent on trying to capture my focus once more by means of a little aimless wandering. The people I see are little more than figures, nameless faces that I'll probably never see again, whipping by with each step I take. Everything just seems so off today. My normally solid concentration is laying in pitiful shards in my head, disallowing me to focus on my studies. It's frustrating and confusing. I've had that dream many times before, why would it be affecting me so strongly this time, when it has never before? So caught up in these thoughts am I, that I don't see the nameless figure walking towards me, until my shoulder catches his, jarring both of us. I stumble several steps before catching my footing, and turning to face him. He doesn't even look like he's ruffled by the unexpected encounter.   
"Oh, my apologies," I offer, a little sheepishly, shifting my book bag higher up on my shoulder. He turns, slowly, and looks at me. He wears a warm, forgiving smile on his face, but I barely see it. His face, his hair... his eyes, the features look so much like those of the man in my dream. I feel my jaw drop, and have to consciously force it to close.   
"Hey! I found you!" he replies, raising a hand. Found me? I have to avert my eyes, I know I'm staring, and I don't want him to see the confusion pulsing through my irises. But he just looks so familiar. It's unsettling, both the feeling and his comment, to say the least. His hand hangs in the air for a moment longer, before hesitantly dropping to his side. I shake my head a little.   
"Um, pardon me, if this sounds strange.... but do I know you?" I question, trying not to blush in embarrassment. Instead of the confused expression I was expecting to appear on his features, his already wide smile just broadens.   
"Yeah, you do. I've known you since you were born," he replies. I have to blink at that. He takes a step towards me, the fabric of his sports jacket rustling as he moves. I remain frozen in place, trying to fully grasp what he just said.   
"Really? You seem familiar, but at the same time, you don't," I say in return, a hesitant note in my voice, despite my attempts to appear unruffled. The young man smiles warmly.   
"It's okay that you don't remember that well. That's to be expected. I'm just glad you remember at all," he tells me, and the assurance in his voice is almost frighteningly steadfast. I feel some of it seep into my mind, but I'm not totally convinced.   
"Are you sure?" I ask, once again shifting my hold on my back pack. He grins at me, then glances around.   
"Of course I am. But I've got to be going. The others will be here later, I think. Just don't worry, everything will be okay in the end," he assures me, full of confidence, then turns, and jogs off. The remark throws me. The others? What others? What's going to be okay? What in the first place is wrong?   
"Wait! What's your name?" I call suddenly, taking several steps after him. He's a good number of yards ahead of me already, but he hears me, stops, turns, and waves, smiling wide enough that I can see it clearly, even from my distance.   
"I told you not to worry! Just wait for everyone else! I'll see you later, Marron!" he yells in reply, then turns and heads off. I start after him, but a group of people go by me. Despite my best efforts, I get caught in the middle of the group. By the time I get to the other side, he's gone. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know that I should be deeply confused about that out-of-the-ordinary conversation, but all I feel is a soothing warmth radiating through my body. Suddenly, everything he said becomes more believable. Not that it makes any sense, but I find myself feeling confident that everything will turn out fine. The fact that I still don't know what's wrong seems like a problem not even worth thinking about. I head back to my bench, sweeping a few of the tiny cherry tree flower petals from the bench before sitting down.   


*****

  
_An ethereal green hand lunging at my chest. Surging, crushing pain, gripping my heart in it's iron grasp. Voices, little more than faint murmurs echoing below. A feeling of being dragged. My head dropping against my chest, and in the brief seconds as the red haze of pain clears from my vision, a young man with dark hair that seems to go every possible direction, with huge, horrified black eyes, staring up at me. His mouth moves, the frantic way his lips form the soundless words gives me a feeling of panic from him. Who is he? Why is he appearing to me...?_   
My own sharp yelp of pained surprise rings in my ears for several long breaths after it wakes me up. It takes me a second to realize that I'm sitting up, and the place over my heart is aching dully. Strange, it's right where that hand was in my dream. Slowly, I reach a hand up, absently massaging the flesh over the pulsing organ, feeling the rapid thumps created by my adrenaline rush slowly taper back down to a more normal beat. At the same time, my breath gradually slows from rough-sounding gasps to a relaxed pattern. As soon as all this is completed, I fall back on the mattress, one hand crossing over my waist, the other stretching up above my head. The ceiling becomes an object of deep fascination as I sort out my thoughts, and try to put together at least a few of the puzzle pieces of the dream that just woke me so roughly. That weird dream. First of all, it doesn't seem right that a dream should hurt. I wonder if I was tossing, and hit something. A quick check of the surrounding area shows nothing that would have inflicted that kind of damage. Second, the whole aura, if you will, of the scene felt... familiar. Like a distant memory. I shudder slightly. Not a fun thing to recall. Lastly, the guy in it bothers me. I feel like I should know him. But I don't know anyone who even vaguely resembles him. That seems like it should be the least of my worries, considering what the first two thoughts were, but it's the one that sticks in my mind. Along with the vague idea that I need to find that man. An involuntary chuckle escapes me. I'm going insane, dwelling on something so pointless. It was just some damn stupid dream. Weird, yes. But nothing that should have gotten half the mental devotion I've given it already. This thought in mind, I sit up, tossing the blanket off my lower body. Swinging my legs off the side of the bed, I reach down and retrieve my jeans from where they lay in a crumpled heap after I'd kicked them off the previous night. Settling the zipper into place, I head for the bathroom, pausing momentarily to dig a fresh shirt out of my dresser on my way.   
The fresh air outside is a stark, refreshing contrast to the warmish draft that circulated through my room. The light breeze ruffles my hair as I take in a deep gulp of oxygen, and jog off towards the basketball court, hoping that the guys won't chew me out too much for being late. It's a short distance to the park, and I'm there before I know it. Unfortunately, the place is huge, abnormally so, in my opinion, for a college park. And the court is on the other side. Muttering my favorite curse under my breath, I start off. Given it's the weekend, there's a large number of people, and more than once, little kids go shrieking by, frantic-looking parents on their heels. More than once, I have to reach out and grab one of the squirts to keep them from getting mowed down by a distracted bicyclist. It's right after one of these times, right after I'd handed some little red-headed boy off to his grateful mother, and trying to ignore the pain from the bite the little brat delivered to my arm, that I smash into someone. I just forgot to look where I was going before starting to walk. I merely stumble a little, but he staggers and hits the ground.   
"Sorry," I mumble sheepishly, reaching out a hand to help him up. He pops to his feet on his own, ignoring my hand, and brushes his clothes off.   
"Same big, clumsy gorilla," he comments, and reflecting later on the scene, I remember the playful note in his voice. Not one of stranger talking to stranger, but friend cracking an over-used joke to another friend. However, at the moment, I don't notice the jesting note, as I'm fairly well angered by what I perceived as an insult.   
"Excuse me?" I snap, stepping toward him quickly, my posture mildly threatening. He appears unfazed by my actions.   
"I said, 'Hey! I found you!'" he replies, the look on his face saying that he is well aware of that that isn't what he said.   
"That was rude," I tell him, referring to what he actually said and crossing my arms. Normally, I wouldn't have given a jerk like him a split second of my time. But I'm still standing here, and the only explanation I can think of is that he seems to know me. It stands as logical that I should see if I can place him.   
"Yeah, I know. I'm a mean-spirited prick. But ya gotta admit, it's true," he grins in return, gesturing to my arms. I narrow my eyes, seriously entertaining the thought of just assuming that the idiot is drunk and _thinks_ he recognizes me, and walking away. About then, something clicks in my brain, looking at his over-sized grin. My dream flashes into mind. For a split second, the image of that guy, with his fear-twisted features, plays over the man standing before me. The resemblance in that moment is so strong, I gasp and take an involuntary step backwards. "Who are you?" I demand quietly, fixing him with a hard look. He scoffs a little, waving his hand dismissively.   
"Now's not the time for stupid stuff like that, Gateau," he informs me. Wait, how does he know my name? I take back the step I retreated, looking at him strangely, and repeat aloud the question my mind just supplied me with. He rolls his eyes. "I told you, the stupid stuff's not important. You've gotta find Marron. Much as I hate to admit it, I need you to keep an eye on him until we're all back together," is his all too confusing response. The name, Marron, rings a faint bell in the back of my mind.   
"Why?" I have to ask. He sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes, gesturing wildly.   
"I've gotta go. You two'll have to figure it out. The girls'll be here later. Trust me, you'll remember them," he replies, turning to leave, and jogs off. I start to reach forward, to catch his arm, and demand that he give me a straight answer. Before I can catch up with him, however, he's swept himself up in the mess of people around, and by the time I get through, he's gone. Sighing heavily, I bite my lip. Damn. Damn damn damn. Well, nothing left to do but go try and to make it to the court before the guys finish the game and leave.   
Finally, I'm at the court. I hear one of the guys yell at me for being so late, and notice that the game's already commenced. With another explosive sigh, I plunk down on one of the benches, and narrowly miss taking a basketball in the mouth. It rebounds off the chain link behind me, and bounces off my shoulder. With a joking threat, I grab the ball and heave it at the nearest player. The odd confrontation I had earlier starts to slip form my mind, while loudly cheering for and teasing my fellow basketball junkies. About then, I notice, over by the cherry blossom tree across the path from the court, a guy with long dark hair. Absently, I tilt my head, regarding him curiously. I recognize him, of course. He's over there studying almost every time I come out here to play ball. I've entertained the thought of going up and asking him out, more than once. Of course, I've thought the same thing about a number of the cheerleaders, so maybe it doesn't mean anything. On the other hand, each time I've looked at him, I've felt a strange sense of familiarity. In the past, I just brushed it off and never gave it a second thought. Now, with the dregs of the weird chat I had earlier still fresh in my mind, I'm thinking about going over. This decision is made just in time for me to catch the basketball with my stomach. Doubling over and shouting a promise of death at the tosser, I jump to my feet and join the game. Seems we had someone else show, so we've got even teams. Despite my best efforts to concentrate on the game, my eyes keep wandering over to the guy by the tree. This earns me more than one body-check, ball-in-the-back, and other various injuries.   
"Geez, Mocha, you're slipping today. Don't tell me you're takin' those new flipped out steroids or something. Coach's gonna kick you off the team if he finds out," one of the guys comments, picking up the ball. I glare at him good-naturedly.   
"I'm not on anything," I mutter off-handedly. He quirks an eyebrow, dribbling the ball a few times.   
"Well, then what is it? Love life? I keep tellin' ya, man, you need to get a girl. I mean, not like there aren't five hundred of them already falling all over you. Why not pick one?" I roll my eyes at the comment, still watching the long-haired man.   
"Yeah, one of these days. Say, let's call a break. I need to get some water. I left my bottle back at my dorm," I tell him, heading for the break in the chain link fence without listening to his response. It suddenly seems like a very good idea to go talk to the study-junkie. Some small part of my brain laughs at me for choosing a book-worm to get interested in. I shut up that part of my mind, and lope across the path, feeling the sheen of sweat on my face and chest drying a little. Sheesh, this guy's deep in the books. He doesn't even glance up as I come to a halt in front of him. So I stand there, like an idiot, catching my breath and staring at the top of his bent head. I've just evened out my quiet huffs for air, when he seems to realize that I'm there. Slowly, his head comes up, and a pair of the most amazingly beautiful golden eyes raise to meet mine. He cocks his head to the side slightly in inquiry.   
"Can I help--" he starts to say, suddenly freezing. I barely notice, because the same thing's happening to me. We stare at one another for a long, long moment. Flashes, nothing more than little tiny blips of images, zip past my vision. The funny-haired stranger. A girl with dark red hair. A girl with pink hair. The book-worm, wearing different clothes. A guy with really messed up hair, dressed in a long black cape. A woman with lavender hair, and a girl with wings. After a minute, I shake my head a little, noticing how my breath is coming in slightly ragged pulls. In front of me, He of the Amazing Gold Eyes doesn't look much better. He's staring at me, wide-eyed, but a faint hit of recognition in the deep amber irises.   
"Hi," I grin, breaking whatever spell we were trapped under. "Wanna go grab a beer or a cup of coffee or something?" I question brilliantly. He blinks at me several times as if I'm crazy.   
"But I don't even know you," he replies hesitantly. I shrug one shoulder. "What's your name?" I ask in return. Again, he blinks at me for a few beats, looking surprised.   
"Marron... Marron Glace," he offers finally, a bit warily. Marron? That's the guy the weirdo mentioned. I broaden my smile, without looking threatening.   
"Well, I'm Gateau Mocha. There, now we're not strangers. So, wanna go grab lunch or a movie, perhaps?" I press him. He frowns a little.   
"I need to study," he objects. I snort, and mentally wonder why I'm so determined to get him to come with me. Hell, I'll just blame it on recent tension. Or that he's got the same name as that of the guy I'm supposed to be "keeping an eye on." Hey, how many Marrons can there be in the world?   
"Marron, finals are a million years away. You look like you need a break, and I mean desperately. Hell, when I came over, you didn't look up until after almost three chapters!" I argue. He blinks at me like he's wondering why I'm pestering him so insistently. A thoughtful look comes over his features. I shift nervously from foot to foot for a second, before being greeted by a small, but surprisingly brilliantly warm smile.   
"Why not, Gateau? Where would you like to go?" he asks, putting his book away and smiling. Feeling triumphant, I reach out, boldly putting a hand on his shoulder, and directing him towards one of the park's exits, making some comment about us figuring it out later. A contented feeling sweeps over me, like I've found something I'd been seeking for a long, long time. The look on his face suggests that he feels the same way. A niggling something in the back of my head says that it's not over, more weird stuff's gonna happen, but I find myself able to push it to the back of my mind, in lieu of trying to decide where to take Marron on our... date? Friendly outing? Aw, hell, I'll figure it out later.   
  


*~OWARI~*

  
  
_ You have any idea how long this chewed on my ankles before I finally gave in and wrote it? Nearly two weeks. *grins* I'm amazed that I gave Gateau more screen time, so to speak, than Marron. *shrugs* Oh, well. I guess the poor boy needs more attention. *snickers to herself* N-E-Aaaayy... this might not snuggle *exactly* into the basic blurb line (admit it, that's pretty much what it was, from our angle, for the last few episodes in ref to the "going to the next life" spots) from the show, but I thought it was cute. Just so y'all know, this is a one-shot. I'm not gonna scribble out the Misu sister's parts, cause the show did a good enough job of that. I only did Marron and Gateau cause the show didn't really explain *how* they ended up being together, and it doesn't make sense, sorta kinda, since they, *ahem*, passed on with fair amounts of time between their deaths. I had fun writing it. What can I say? Those cute little psychobabble pieces are fun to mess with. And I'm gonna shut up now. It's late (4:00 AM!), and I'm gettin' tired. *grins* Catch ya later! Luv ya all!_   
-Maxy Steel (*the second she types in the last "l", Maxy falls over, dead to the world until morning*) 


End file.
